S. Agnon - Shira

When they had finished eating, Zahara led her mother to the upholstered chair near the window and went to clear the table. As long as Zahara was clearing the dishes, Henrietta sat quietly. When Zahara didn’t come back, Henrietta understood that she must be washing them. But she had come for the workshops, not to do dishes, and she ought to rest before going to the lectures. Henrietta pulled herself together, got up, and went to the kitchen to relieve Zahara. Zahara refused to listen to her; she wouldn’t let her do household chores after being up most of the night and spending most of the day cooking, with no one to help. When Sarini came to nurse Sarah, she had asked if she could take the day off, as she was being offered the chance to assist at an important ritual — the ransoming of a firstborn donkey — to pour drinks for the guests and serve all sorts of sweets, since the wife of the celebrant, a kind and rich Bukharan, was all thumbs and so inept she couldn’t even manage the sugar cubes she sucked on, let alone the guests. And it was going to be a great ceremony, like the one with Balfour and Herbert Samuel when the Ashkenazim established a university. Manfred, when he heard Zahara and Henrietta arguing, leaped into the fray and declared, “I’ll wash the dishes.” Henrietta scolded him, saying, “You, go back to your room. Climb into bed. And after you’ve slept, you can get back to work.”

Neither of them washed the dishes, nor did anyone go back to his room, since Zahara’s friend, the lanky young man called Avraham-and-a-half, appeared at that moment. He was as smart as he was tall, having come to the Land of Israel where the sky is tall too, and one’s head doesn’t scrape the clouds.

Avraham-and-a-half is about twenty-two years old, but he looks younger. He is from a rich family that, generations back, cast off the yoke of the Torah and commandments, renouncing the Hebrew language and the Land of Israel. It was Avraham who rediscovered the Hebrew language and went to the Land of Israel. He is meticulous with language and meticulous in all his actions. His hair is wild, but his thoughts are orderly. His clothes are in tatters, but his soul is intact. Because his hair is golden, as are his eyebrows, and his eyes hide shyly behind long, smiling, golden lashes, bars of gold seem to pour forth from his eyes. He loves everyone, and everyone loves him. Since the time he was hiking with Zahara and she sprained her ankle so he had to carry her in his arms, he loves her twice as much as anyone else. Zahara loves him too, but she still isn’t sure whether she loves him or Heinz the Berliner more. It’s odd, but, as soon as she decides she loves one, the other appears and makes himself even more lovable; then she decides he is the one she loves more, and the first one appears, and so on, over and over again. Though she is in conflict with herself, Avraham and Heinz are on amicable terms. Affection for Zahara is very special, in that those who love her are not moved to hate one another.

As soon as Avraham-and-a-half appeared, all the arguments about dishwashing came to an end. Zahara made coffee and Henrietta brought cake. They all sat down, drank coffee, and ate cake. Avraham-and-a-half told about several news items that were reported in the papers with essentials omitted. Then he told about the workshops and the lecturers, most of whom didn’t know how to accent words, handle grammar, or construct a proper sentence in Hebrew. They sometimes phrased their sentences in such a way that, if one weren’t already familiar with the subject, he would conclude the exact opposite of what was intended. Similarly, there were those renowned orators whose language was meager, whose vocabulary was like a child’s but without its charm. As he spoke, Avraham-and-a-half swallowed slice after slice of cake, which Zahara placed on his dish unnoticed, until the ninth or tenth round, when he began wondering how there could still be half a slice in his hand when he had been eating constantly.

Henrietta sat idly, enjoying the boy and his conversation. Even Manfred was aware of his fine qualities. But, if he could have exercised a fatherly prerogative over his daughter, he would have chosen another young man for Zahara, such as Taglicht. Though he already had Taglicht in mind for another young woman, he would have reconsidered on his daughter’s behalf.

When there were no more cakes on the table, Zahara tapped Avraham on the shoulder and said, “Let’s get going, or we’ll be late to Aharaoni’s lecture on domestic and nomadic cultures.” They got up and left. Henrietta got up and went into the kitchen to wash the lunch dishes, as well as the additional ones from the coffee and cake. Herbst got up and went back to work.

Having had three cups of hot coffee, as well as another halfcup at the end, which was cold by then, he was alert and decided to forgo an afternoon nap and get right to work. He had not slept enough the previous night, and his hands were clumsy and awkward as a result, so that, when he began sorting his notes, not only did he add nothing, but he disturbed the ones that were in good order. It was hard for him to continue working and hard for him to stop, for it was barely two or three hours since he had resolved to keep working until he finished his book. He sat fingering his papers and notecards. He read a bit here, a bit there, and was not pleased with anything. He put down the papers and began looking for something else to occupy himself with.

There are many things asking for attention. One has only to glance at the books piled on the desk, the chairs, and the floor, asking to be put in place. What a waste of time, what a bother to run into them when you don’t need them and not be able to find them when you do. This goes for borrowed books as well. They should be returned to their owners, but he hasn’t even looked at them yet. And the collections of scholarly papers that, presumably, contain new material, although they must be examined to see if they say anything really new, as well as dissertations that sometimes refer to an unfamiliar book or article. Over and above these are the letters, those written to him that require answers, as well as those he has to write. These are aspects of his work that he deals with regularly, but now his soul seeks replenishment. He glances harshly at the room that has attached itself to him, clinging to him like a skin, unchanged since he first occupied it. Just then, the strip of greenish pink light that shines in from the garden between the rains, just before dark, begins to glow through the window. He goes to the window and gazes out at the garden in amazement, like a man who sees something lovely and is amazed that it still exists. He soon leaves the room and everything in it, and goes out to the garden.

Before he could catch his breath, he saw Sacharson, his neighbor. Last night, when Herbst needed an excuse for Henrietta, he found one. Now that he was looking for a way to escape Sacharson, he couldn’t find one. So he prepared himself for the worst. Sacharson glanced at him and, seeing he was upset, slipped away. Herbst forgot about Sacharson, kneeled down to pull up a weed that was growing in Henrietta’s flower bed, and cleared some pebbles flung by a shepherd to call back sheep he had sent into the garden. Having begun to tend the garden, Herbst threw himself into the task. He pulled off wilted leaves, evened out a mound of dirt, fixed a furrow, adjusted some stakes that were beginning to slip. Finally he went to get the watering can, happy to have a chance to spare Henrietta the chore. On his way, he stopped in the kitchen to see if there was any dishwater to use for the garden.

He found Sarah lying in her crib, with a fat housefly circling above her nose. He chased the fly and chirped at the baby. She fixed her eyes on him and stared, wondering where the sound was coming from. It seemed she thought the buzz was from his hands and was wondering how hands could have the strength and wisdom to make such a sound.